


Moonflower

by Serpentina1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Companions in Misery, F/M, Falling In Love, Fear of Discovery, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Full Moon, Love, Love/Hate, Moon, Moonlight, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Suspense, Teacher-Student Relationship, True Love, Trust, Werewolf Biology, Werewolf Senses, Werewolf Turning, Werewolves, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3395123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpentina1/pseuds/Serpentina1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes love hides itself so deep in the shadows, we find it just when we're suddenly facing the darkness. After an incident during the summer break, Remus Lupin appears to Pansy Parkinson in different light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moonlight beneath the waves

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations written by J.K. Rowling. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made. The plot of this fiction is all mine, though.

The cool water brushed smoothly across her skin as she glided through the moonlit river’s glittering waves. Pansy Parkinson was happy to be all by herself like this for a change. She drew in a deep breath and dived down into the turquoise waters.

Silvery moonlight was all around her. It shone easily through the clear water and flickered mysteriously across the coarse, white gravel on the river’s sandy bottom. It was an odd, dreamlike atmosphere.

She loved swimming in the river at night. She felt free and alive outside in this quiet place in the woods. And when swimming in the river, she felt like a fish in the water – literally.

It was her escape from a world of compulsion and gave her the peace and happiness, she was missing in her life.

Some strands of fluxweed brushed lazily across her ankle. She dived further down to glide through the green-shimmering wood beneath the waves and closed her eyes. The plants’ many strands shifted in the stream and brushed across her marble-white, smooth skin like caressing fingers. Her long, silky, raven-black hair floated like a cloak around her.

This was her favourite place – if she only would not have to come up for air between. Reluctantly, she left the green tunnel behind and moved up towards the source of brightness above the waves again.

The warm summer night’s air hit her with all its richness of scents. It smelled pleasantly of pine woods and resin, wild flowers and dry summer grass. There was the permanent, intense sound of crickets in the wild weeds on the river’s embankments.

It was late August already. In less than two days, she would be off for another year at Hogwarts again. She could hardly believe it was her seventh, her final year. Time seemed to have passed so quickly.

With another deep intake of breath she dived again and once more, she was surrounded by calming silence. Smiling, she turned onto her back to have a look at the world from the fishes’ perspective.     

It was always a good thing to watch things from out of a different perspective if one needed to sort out some thoughts. At least this had been her grandma’s advice, when she had been upset as a child.

“Go and climb up a tree, little Pansy. Have a look at the world from out of the green cave of its leaves. A different perspective will bring different light to things, Deary,” she had said and for some reason this had helped her to clear lots of things. She had not climbed any tree for several years – her mother would probably go nuts, if she had caught her up there now.

She grinned. Once, at the age of five, she had persuaded Draco to climb onto the old ash-tree by the house with her. He had not been very fond of that idea though, and while she had easily succeeded in climbing down again, Draco had to be transported magically to the ground by his father. Lucius Malfoy had been infuriated at the sight of his son sitting high up in the branches of a tree in his best robes, dusty and ripped, crying at the top of his lungs and the obnoxious little girl dancing around the lawn beneath him in equally ruined robes.

Her parents had not been very pleased either.

The two miscreants had been sent straight up to her chambers for the evening, after a harsh lecture not to behave like common brats. Her grandma had just chuckled and sent one of the house elves to serve them dinner up there without her parents’ notice. They had had so much fun back then.

Still gliding along beneath the water’s surface, she smiled at the memory. All she could recognise at the moment was the huge, round shape of the full moon that shone bright and clear onto the river and the world above.

With a sigh, she came up for air again and this time, she swam towards the large, half-round rock that reached far into the water.

In spring, when melted snow filled the river up to its borders and changed it into a rough, wild-floating stream, this rock was constantly polished by the waters and with the years its surface had become all smooth and clean. Right now, in late August, the tidemark was far lower and the rock towered amid the water. The stone was smooth and still pleasantly warm from the day’s heat.    

Pansy climbed her favourite place and drew her knees to her chest.

Thoughtfully, she contemplated the peaceful landscape. The moon seemed to be close enough to reach for it. It was big and bright and had a beautiful reddish tone.

Briefly she wondered if Draco might be looking at the moon right now, too.

But thinking about Draco was not as pleasant as usual anymore. She was supposed to marry him after they graduated. To actually marry him and... And suddenly this date occurred worryingly close to her. Of course, they had always known about their parents’ plans for them. Arranged marriages where still quite a common habit in the wizarding world - At least among the old, pureblood families - And the Malfoys where undoubtedly of just as old wizarding inheritance as the Parkinsons.

Draco did not look bad at all, with his silvery-blond hair and those characteristic Malfoy-features. He was tall and lean and during their first years at Hogwarts, she had been quite fond of him and of the idea to become his wife one day.

It certainly held a lot of advantages, she could not deny that. Half of the Slytherin girls envied her for the status she would have in the wizarding world as his wife, not to mention the Malfoy fortunes. And their Manor was even larger than her family’s Mansion.

But for some reason, she was not sure if all that would be enough for her. There had to be something else. And now her dear grandma was no longer around to give her advice anymore. She missed her a lot.

If she only could have talked to her mother about this. But all she had responded was that Lucius Malfoy was a close friend of her father and that she should be grateful for the lucky arrangement.

She sighed once more. She certainly should not complain. At least she knew Draco since their childhood.

But he had changed so much. He had always enjoyed his nasty little ideas to torment others, mostly weaker ones, but in some way, he had become really _evil_ over the last year. Not around her. He was always polite and civil to her and since she had changed from a ‘ _pug-faced’_ little girl into a rather pretty young woman, he had even become quite fond of her, but if she thought of the way he treated most other people and what he said about them, it was kind of worrying. Maybe he would not always act around her like he did now.

Just back this morning, she had received a letter from him. It had been firm and polite as usual, but had contained some rather surprising news.

Once again the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher had quitted his job by the end of term and Lucius Malfoy, who belonged once again to the schools’ governors had told his son that no other than Remus Lupin would get the post. This was in more than one way surprising news. After all, Lupin had already taught that subject back in their third year, but when his dark secret had been revealed, he had had to give up the position.

Remus Lupin was a Werewolf. And most parents had not appreciated the fact that he was teaching their children.

Even Dumbledore had had to give in at that pressure and Professor Lupin had left Hogwarts. They had not heard or seen a bit of him during the last three years. But now he was coming back to teach and Draco planned to start a lot of trouble about this. Dumbledore, the old fool, would be sorry to have given that mangy Werewolf another chance, he had written. And somehow, she did not doubt he would be successful in his plan.

But if she was honest with herself, she was not really interested in this at all. She had other things to keep her mind busy at the moment.

How much she would have appreciated her grandma’s advice now, that she felt all confused about the drastic changes her life would take so very soon.

Well those thoughts would not do her any good right now. At the moment all they had got her was to be bitten by some blood-thirsty beasts. Frowning, she scratched the itching gnat-bite at her left knee and shooed away some more exemplars of that nasty plague.

The moon had come far around in her circle by now.

It had to be long past midnight and she had better head back to her chambers now, if she did not want to risk any trouble. 

Reluctantly, she glided back into the water. It was cool and refreshing after sitting in the thick summer night’s air for so long and it had a calming effect at the itching gnat-bite at her knee.

With powerful movements she swam across the river, towards the place where she had left her robes at its bank. Hopefully there would not be any ants in her clothing once again. She still shook with disgust at that memory, while she climbed the embankment and headed for the edge of the wood. Some fir-needles were tickling and stitching slightly under her feet. 

She had just finished to slip her knickers on, when she had the feeling of being watched for the first time.

Carefully she glanced around, but could not spot anybody.

It was a weird sensation to stand in nothing but her knickers with the feeling of someone watching her from out of hiding. All the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end by it. Hastily she dragged the dark-blue shirt she wore beneath her robes above her head and whirled around. While she had been suspicious before, she was _sure_ to have heard some noise now!   

There was something hiding in the undergrowth close by.

As bright as the moonlight might be glittering on the water, it was not able to reach into the darkness between the fir-wood. But that was not all. Something darker than the shadows seemed to lurk over there between the trunks. Fearfully, Pansy stared into the place where the slight noise had originated.

There was something else; the frightening noise of little twigs breaking beneath somebody’s steps and the rustling of dry leaves from the previous year. But she could strain her eyes as much as she pleased, all she could recognise were shadows and darkness.  

The fir-wood, the darkest of all woods, whose thick branches did not allow any moonbeam to pass, enfolded its shadows around her as soon as she took the first hesitating steps between its mighty trunks. She had to cross this forest to get to her home, which towered on a cliff high above the river.

A low dangerous growling sound caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.

When she threw a frightened glance back over her shoulder, she could recognise a pair of lamp-like, yellowish eyes quite a bit above the ground.

Whatever this was, it must be tall. And it was most certainly not human. Even the gasp of fear died in her throat as she whirled around and stormed blindly into the depth of the forest.

To her very horror, the thing followed.

She could hear its steps on the dry leaves and little twigs that covered the forest’s ground getting steadily quicker. It was then that she broke into a full out run.  

She could hardly recognise the narrow path that led up to her home. In her panic, she tripped over some roots that reached into the path and stumbled, frantically gripping for any hold she could get. Fir-twigs whipped across her face.

She must have missed the right direction in her stumbling. Thick undergrowth and bushes of bramble blocked her way all of a sudden. Sharp angled, bare twigs at the lower part of the fir-trunks ripped the cloth of her shirt in several places and tugged painfully at her long, still wet hair. Her bare feet hurt from the roots and thorns she had accidentally stepped onto.    

The ground lead upwards at a high angle by now and her legs got more tired with every step.

But she moved onward, nonetheless.

The beast still followed and it was definitely close. She could hear its rushed breath in her back. When a strand of her hair got caught in a twig, she was dragged back all of a sudden and almost fell. Panic-stricken, she tugged and ripped at the strand, but could not free herself and the beast got steadily closer.

Her sight blurred from hot tears of desperation, when she tried to get free. Would this be going to be the way, she would die - ripped apart by some ravenous, yellow-eyed beast in the dark of the night, she wondered.

It probably was. She could already hear its growling and rushed breathing close behind her.  With a few last, flexible jumps, it crossed the remaining distance between them. Large paws tripped across her back and pushed her to the ground. A sharp pain made her cry out. Razor sharp teeth sank into a spot close to her left shoulder-blade. Paw-claws were scratching down her legs.

With a sharp cracking noise, the twig that held her hair broke and she fell flat onto her stomach. This was her chance! Frantically she crawled through the thick undergrowth and bushes of bramble.

Growling furiously, the beast tried to follow. It was far too big to get beneath the bush in this place and had to search for a gap between the brambles, but it would certainly find one soon.

She could not rest, nor could she check on the wound in her back right now. Trembling with fear, she got to her feet and continued her flight.

The ground lead steadily upwards.

Warm and sticky the blood run down her back and made the shirt clung to her skin. There were several bleeding scratches on her legs, too and she could hardly step onto her right foot. Her breath was ragged and uneven and her lungs felt like bursting, but she still ran on.

It was her only chance.

This beast, whatever it was, would kill her if it hunted her down.

She noticed a small area of light in the distance ahead. Filled with hope, she tried to force her legs to move faster. If this was the edge of the forest - If she made it till there - Maybe the beast would not follow her into the open -

Desperately she stumbled forward, her view blurred with tears and exhaustion. Dark spots started dancing in front of her eyes. She could only hope that she would not pass out.

The ground became rocky and uneven now and her bare feet were tripping painfully over a number of stones. Her knee slammed against a rock, when she climbed a vertical part.

Trembling from exhaustion, Pansy climbed over the edge and found herself laying on a kind of plateau, surrounded by moonlight.

Panting she lifted herself up to her knees and glanced around.

Right in front of her the boulder rose upwards several meters. Impossible to climb up there – To her right, an abyss was yawning – not an option either. What left just the fir-wood to her left and behind, where the beast was still searching for her.    

As bad as this possibility might occur to her, she did not have much of a choice. Maybe she could hide somewhere – or climb a tree –

She had barely turned towards the forest again, when her eyes caught sight of something big and greyish lurking between the trunks.

It had found her -

She was trapped. 

At first sight, it looked like a very big dog or wolf, but when it fully stepped into the light, her eyes widened with shock. This - was no dog. It was no wolf either  –

It was Werewolf -

His fur was of dark grey colour and at close range, his eyes were not yellow, but very light amber.

Fearfully, Pansy backed away until she reached the edge of the cliff.

With a low, dangerous growl, the Werewolf ducked, as he prepared to attack. His fur was standing on end and a murderous gleaming reflected in his eyes. Sure of his prey, he bared his teeth. Pansy could recognise some of her blood on his snout.

In panic she whirled around and starred into the yawning abyss. The river’s waters were gurgling far down beneath her. There was just one chance – pinching her eyes shut, she stepped forward.

 **A/N:** What do you think? Weird pairing once again, I know. But somehow I like the possibilities of Pansy. 

Thanks to **SilentG** for revising the chapter.

Smiles, Serpentina


	2. Mourning in the morning

First there was nothing but blackness.

Then the steadily gurgling sound of water drifted in to her and dragged her out of her state of unconsciousness.

With the sound came the pain – and - the memory.

She had been on the run. She had been running for dear life. Hunted by some ravenous, merciless beast. A wolf – a Werewolf!

With a gasp of fear she tried to sit up, but a sharp burning pain in her back, close to her left shoulder blade, made her give up trying. She was lying on her stomach - half in the water still, but she was too weak to get to her feet right now. Clenching her teeth, she dragged herself a little further up the embankment. The muddy ground felt almost warm after being so long in the water. With a dry sob, Pansy Parkinson lay her cheek onto her outstretched arm and closed her eyes once more.

Of course. She had been bitten, that was where the pain in her shoulder was from. She had been bitten by a Werewolf. And now – Another sob forced its way up her throat. Her head was spinning from exhaustion and fear and her every bone seemed to ache. She had injured herself quite badly at her panicked flight of the beast and finally she had thrown herself over the cliff to escape him. Obviously the Werewolf had not dared to follow. But even if he had, she would have been too weak to continue her flight right now.

She was so weak. A new wave of darkness captured her senses and she knew no more –

O

The first rays of morning sun hit the window and caused the man on the bed to slowly open his eyes. His light-brown, curly hair was already marked with traces of silver at the temples and his otherwise quite young face had a tired, disillusioned expression. There were some fine vertical lines between his eyes that told of worries and grief.

Remus Lupin woke with a familiar pain in his bones. It was always the same. Dealing with the after-effects of a transformation was always hard. While he was able to indulge the pains as a wolf he always lost consciousness when transforming back into human form again.

During the time of an upcoming full moon there might be weakness and restlessness, but afterwards it was even worse. The first hours especially were filled with pain – and depression.

His whole body was aching from the violent twists and turns with which his bones were forced into the ones of a wolf and then back into human form again. His muscles ached from the contractions and he felt slightly sick.

Slowly he raised his head out of the mess of twisted sheets. His pillow lay on the floor next to the bed. He must have hurled it off during his convolutions. Transformation was always painful and violent, but at least he was not losing his mind anymore. Thanks to the Wolfsbane Potion Severus brewed for him on Dumbledore’s request, he kept his human mind now, even while he was trapped in the body of a beast.

Maybe this made the tortures even harder to indulge though, since he remembered every detail of the painful process and every thought that had occurred to him during the long hours between dusk and dawn. He had spent the last night laying on the wooden floor of his office, with his head on his front paws, contemplating the reddish glowing shape of the full moon that meant so much beauty to others, but so much pain and sadness to him. He had once again mourned the fate that refused him a normal life in every way.

He was neither able to get and keep any regular work, nor could he ever hope for the love of a woman or a family life. How could he bind any woman to a creature like himself? It was impossible.

Even his own parents had treated him differently ever since he had been bitten. They had feared the neighbours’ reactions if they were ever to find out and had always hidden him in the cellar, for the night of full moon. That was the worst. To be locked in and having to pace his prison in tight, nervous circles, while the moon called him outside into the woods – the shadows - the dark.

During the first years at Hogwarts it had been all the same. He had been trapped inside the Shrieking Shack for the night of full moon and had smashed the furnishings and bitten himself in his furious attempts to get outside.

He had been so grateful, when his friends had not abandoned him, when they had found out about his secret, but had even trained to become animagi to keep him company. He had not been all alone anymore and it had finally given him the opportunity to get outside at nights of full moon.

But these friends were not with him any longer. One of them had turned traitor on the others. One had died and the other one had spent twelve years as an innocent at Azkarban and was still on the run, since his name had not been cleared jet. Once again he had been all alone with no one to share his dark secret with. 

The need to hush everything down, the excursions, the lies, the fear of getting caught had made it all worse. At least that had ended now that everyone knew about his lycanthropy. Nonetheless he was worried if students would face him with loathing, now that they knew what he was.

He was not even sure if it had been really a good idea to return to Hogwarts anymore. But maybe these worries were just caused by his current condition.

He felt lonely and useless in the first hours after a transformation - a burden to everyone – even to himself.

But there was not much time to mourn in depression over his fate now. In two days the Hogwarts Express would bring back the students for another school year.

At least he did not need to travel to Diagon Alley anymore as he had already taken that trip the week before. He had picked a couple of books to base his lessons upon and had brought a new Grindylow and some Pixies and Red Caps for the third and second years. He had even headed for Knockturn Alley to search for some useful materials at ‘ _Borgin and Burkes’_ since he planed to teach his seventh years how to distinguish when an object or person was being operated upon by Dark Magic. He planned to make his lessons the best possible since he was determined to keep his position this time. He could be more than lucky that he had been offered another chance to teach, after the incident four years ago, when he had forgotten to take the Wolfsbane Potion and had transformed into some ravenous beast. It was a miracle that he had not harmed anyone back then. It must not happen ever again.

Not that there had been much competition to the job. The position of the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher wasn’t the most desired one, and with the exception of Severus, no one had candied for the post as far as he knew. This was not very hard to understand, since the position seemed to be under some kind of bad fortune in the past. No one had lasted longer than a year in this post and with Voldemort back to power and gathering new followers every day it was not the safest job, either. The young Malfoy and his gang seemed to have joined ‘The Circle’ for all it looked like, although there was no proof of this of course. One more reason for him to be glad about this position. This way he could be near Harry, could protect him from secret attacks and prepare him for life after Hogwarts. After all this was his final year and without the protection of Dumbledore he would need all the defence practice he could get.

Slowly he got up from his bed and made his way unsteadily towards his office next door, where he had kept the new Pain Relieving Potion safely out of his reach so not to knock it over by accident during his transformations.

He pulled out the stopper and inhaled the smell carefully. Not that he mistrusted Severus, but he still would not drink just anything he offered him.

It did not smell bad though. Carefully he poured the first drops of the crystal clear liquid into his mouth. It did not taste bad either – just as fresh and clean as it smelled. Like lemon and ice.

He drank greedily. His mouth felt dry and his throat was all hoarse from crying out in pain in both of his shapes.  

After he had swallowed the last rest of the icy liquid, he set the bottle down onto the work-desk again. With shuffling steps, his back bowed like an old man, he returned to his bedroom, picked up his pillow and curled himself up between the strained and twisted sheets once again. For now, all he could do was to wait for the potion to work.

O

Pansy awoke at the break of dawn, her neck all tense and her head aching. Her hair, which had dried during the past hours, was dishevelled and full of twigs, moss and leaves. She tried to sit up again and this time, she succeeded.

When she glanced around, she noticed there was deep fire-wood to both sides of the river. She must have floated quite a bit down with the steam.

She would have to walk for at least an hour to get back to the place where she had jumped off the cliff.

Slowly and still trembling slightly, she got to her feet. Her every limb was aching, but she had to get out of the woods and take care of her injuries in some way.

Now, in the light of morning, she was safe from the Werewolf, at least. That was, if it had really been a Werewolf at all. She was not even sure of this now. Maybe she had let fear cloud her clear sight the night before. Maybe there was hope that she would not turn into a ravenous beast at the next full moon. It could have just as easily been an ordinary wolf, couldn’t it? She clung to the tiny hope that it might have been just an extraordinarily big and aggressive wolf which had attacked her the night before, but had to admit that this was not very believable. She could not deny the truth. The way it had hunted her, had been no ordinary wolf behaviour and the beast had been far too close for her to be mistaken about the details. The long snout, the eyes –

It had been a Werewolf and he had bitten her – of that much she was sure and now - 

She pressed her hands to her mouth to hold back the gasp of fear that wanted to break free at the mere idea. She didn’t even dare to think of it in its last consequence yet.

Yesterday she’d had no other worries than to wonder whether Draco was the right husband for her or not, whereas  - today …

A pale-red morning sun peered over the horizon and lacquered the faint veil of clouds with an intense reddish gloom, when Pansy silently slipped through the back door in the high, ivy clad garden wall and sneaked down the moss-covered steps into the wine cellar, the door of which she had left ajar the evening before. Inside the thick walls, behind one of the shelves, a labyrinth of narrow, dust and cob-web filled corridors spread and gave access to most parts of the house. She hurried along the secret passageway that led up towards her rooms at the second floor. By the time she arrived there, she was trembling with exhaustion once again and collapsed onto her bed, panting. She buried her face into the soft, white pillows, when a wave of hot tears welled up in her eyes. It was so very tempting to just curl up between the clean white sheets and pillows and fall asleep in the old, ebony-wood four-poster, with its dark rose, silky curtains.

There was not any time to rest now, though.

In less than an hour breakfast would be served at the winter garden and her parents would not appreciate her to be late, nor if she dared to join them in her current appearance.

She had to clean herself from the mud of the river’s banks and free her hair of the twigs and leaves and had to get dressed. But most of all, she needed to get rid of the scratches that covered her face, arms and legs.

This brought up some problems. As an undergraduate witch, she was not allowed to use any magic outside of Hogwarts although she was already 17. For all she knew, the Ministry Of Magic would not only know that she had practised magic during the holidays, but also which kind of spell she had used. How was she supposed to explain the couple of healing spells she needed?  

With a grave sigh, she got up from her bed and limped into the small bathroom next door.

It was of light-grey marble and had a beautiful ornamented window of coloured glass in the shape of dancing fairies. In the centre of the room stood an old, large white tub on clawed feet. The water-taps were of bright, shining, polished brass and next to the tub a small table was placed, which was covered by all kinds of bottles and flasks, containing bathing-oils and essences of various colours or smells. Large piles of neatly folded, fluffy white towels were positioned in several places in the room.   

She opened the hot water-tap and poured into the tub some bathing-liquid with the smell of roses and lilies-of-the-valley, before she started to undress herself, but when she tried to pull off her dark-blue T-shirt, she noticed the cloth clung to the wound with the crusted blood.

She would have to wait for the water to soften the scabs before she could remove it.. Slowly and very carefully she lowered herself into the tub. The hot water hurt her many wounds, especially the deep scratches that covered her legs and the bite in her back –

She still wondered how to deal with them, when suddenly a familiar voice called from outside the door.

“What does Missy do? It’s about time to get up and get ready for breakfast. Missy.”

Twinky had obviously heard the sound of running water filling the tub and had decided to check on her ‘Little Mistress’. She was a quite resolute, but very friendly house-elf, around forty, who had cared for her ever since she was a little girl.

Actually it was Twinky who had the upper hand in their relationship, although neither of them would have said so aloud, ever.

Right now she seemed to be quite mad about the muddy prints on the clean sheets. Pansy could hear her muttering to herself, while cleaning up the mess. Then a sharp intake of breath told her that Twinky must have discovered some blood mixed in with the mud. The very next second she appeared in the doorway, clad in a cotton pillowcase with rose and blue blossoms on it. Pansy knew it was to no use to pretend she was fine. Twinky would check on her anyway.

Maybe she could even help her out of this trouble. She had often healed her ‘Little Missy’s’ injuries, small and large. She would help her this time, too. She just mustn’t see the bite on her back – No one must see that one – ever -  It was too horrible to let anyone know about – not even Twinky must know - She would tell her parents and they –

Pansy blanched at the mere idea. No, she did not dare to think of what they might say. Or do -

Hastily she poured more soap into the steaming water and hid between the rising piles of foam. Some globs of it were already dripping out of the tub.  

Twinky placed her hands on her hips. “Why does little Missy make such a mess this morning? Does she want Twinky to work all day to clean up behind her? And what is all this about once again?” she pointed at the bleeding scratches on her face that looked at her from out of the masses of foam.

“How often has Twinky to tell ‘Missy’ she mustn’t run off and swim in the river at night time anymore? She’s now a young lady who will marry Master Draco next summer. What shall he say if his bride keeps running off like a little tomboy? Now show the injuries to Twinky so she can take them away,” she commanded.

Carefully so not to accidentally expose the bite, Pansy held her arms and legs out of the water one by one to get her injuries healed. She also presented all the twig-scratches at her face, and neck and Twinky healed every one with the tip of her long, wrinkly, dry-skinned finger.

O

The winter garden was the perfect breakfast room.

Laying at the east side of the Mansion it was filled with bright warm light on a sunny morning like today. Several large phoenix-palms, bushes of fern and other rich growing, green plants were positioned in huge dark-brown pots all over the room. The orchids her mother kept in here grew in charming-coloured spots amid the rich green vegetation. The air was a little too warm and quite thick because of its high humidity, but nonetheless this was one of the few rooms in the house that Pansy felt really comfortable in. The rich growing vegetation made it difficult to tell where the winter garden ended and the garden outside began. One could almost suppose oneself to be sitting in the midst of a tropical rain-forest.

But the most beautiful part of the winter garden was the floor, which was a mosaic of countless little pieces, depicting likewise-luxuriant vegetation in various shades of green and a large, greyish-green serpent that wound itself through the plants. The detail on the long winding body was done very neatly. Its backside was of dark poisonous green that merely contrasted with the surrounding plants, whereas the colour on the underside of its body was intermingled with lighter shades of greyish-green, into pale-yellow and very light beige and silver. The snake seemed to be almost alive, to be almost moving – slithering – through the garden with the change of light glittering on its scales.

By the time Pansy entered the sunlit winter garden, her parents already awaited her. 

Her mother looked at her with an unpleasant glance. “It is about time that you joined us, Pansy,” she told her quite sternly.

Her father, whose face had been hidden behind the ‘Daily Prophet’, lowered the newspaper to look at her. “Good morning Pansy, my dear. Take a seat.”

“You’re looking quite pale this morning,” her mother interjected. “Didn’t you sleep enough last night?”

“No Mother, not really,” Pansy admitted when she took a seat at the long heavy table of polished black oak that was placed amid the plants of the winter garden. For once she did not need to remind herself constantly to sit straight. She was too afraid the wound on her back might start bleeding again, if she dared to touch the rigid, high-back of her chair.

She had carefully wrapped some bandages around her shoulder to cover the still-slightly-bleeding bite. Hopefully it wouldn’t soak the cloth of her robes. Unfortunately Twinky had chosen ones of light apricot for her to wear today and since she had already been late, Pansy had not asked her to bring the burgundy ones instead. As soon as the house-elf had finished the Drying and Smoothing Charms on her hair, Pansy had twisted the long shimmering black strands into a neat bun and had hurried down for breakfast.

“Pansy,” her mother’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Haven’t you been listening?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mother, what were you saying?” she stammered nervously.

Her mother’s brows increased at that. “Honestly,” she sniffed and continued to complain about Pansy’s lack of manners.

Right then Twinky’s husband Bobby appeared. Like his wife he was clad in a pillowcase, but his was of dark-blue colour. He carried some letters on a small, oval silver plate and presented them to his Master, who picked the first envelope up to open it.

After a few seconds his face darkened. “It’s from Lucius,” he declared with a frown. “He says - No. I can’t believe it.”

His features expressed clear anger now. Pansy shifted uneasily in her chair. She suspected that she already knew what the bad news might be about. And she was right. Before either her mother or she were able to ask him, her father continued, “They are actually allowing that mangy Werewolf to teach again this year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I would be truly happy to know what you think of this.  
> Smiles, Serpentina


	3. Scents and Sensibillities

It was hot on September 1st. The air seemed to whirr with warmth and the old station was bathed in bright sunlight. Pansy stood with her trunk on platform 9 ¾, which was crowded with Hogwarts students. The atmosphere was usual for the start of the school year. Students hustled and bustled amongst the crowd of people and luggage, pets rattled in their cages and everyone seemed to be talking all the time. Pansy could hardly stand all the noise around her. The relentlessly drowning sound of chatting and laughter seemed to split her head in two. It was really annoying. With a sour expression on her face, she leaned back against her trunk that still rested on the trolley, and let her gaze wander around the crowded place. Everywhere students were waving and shouting to welcome their friends after the long summer break.

Near the Entrance-wall, a crowd of excited-looking first years was assembled beneath the nostalgic iron shield, waiting in the safe company of their parents, while their elder siblings mixed amongst the crowd. Some muggleborns had bought ice-cream or candy outside at the station, where they sold things like that for a few ponds, or pansies, or whatever those funny-looking coins were called. Pansy had never understood, why muggles named their money after lakes and flowers and why they would not accept some good gold or silver coins instead, but her father said this was simply the way muggles were. That they were even proud of that worthless trash they called money and would not accept any other payment cause they did not know any better. So the wizarding travellers would just have to wait for the food-trolley on the train. How dense muggles could be.

Not that Pansy really cared right now. She would not have bought any food out there anyway. And certainly not now. Since that fateful night, two days ago, she had lost her appetite. This had already earned her some suspicious looks from her mother, who had finally supposed her to be on a diet and thereafter let her be. In truth it was just that her insides seemed to be twisting themselves into tight knots as soon as she started eating. Horrid ideas of what her meal at the next night of full moon might consist of rushed to her mind as soon as she even thought of any kind of food.

The train had not arrived yet.

It was barely 10.20 a.m. Still about 40 minutes to go.

O

A fluffy ginger cat stared at her out of its cage that rested on top of a large trunk beside hers. Its owner was probably talking to friends somewhere. As soon as the cat noticed Pansy looking in its direction, its already bottle-brush like tail got even more bushy and started switching nervously, while the fur on its back stood on end. A low, displeased mewing sound escaped from its throat.

Bemused, Pansy stepped a little closer to check on the pet. She had always had a soft spot for cats. Unfortunately her parents had decided an owl would be of far better use. It had been one more matter in which she’d had no choice. Not that she had disliked owls, she simply would have liked to have a cat better. An owl might be useful, but it simply was not good to cuddle and Mordred, her black eagle owl, had not yet returned from his current mission to deliver a letter at Malfoy Manor. Draco would probably have had him wait at the Malfoy owlery until he sent him back with his answering letter. And knowing Draco, this had probably been no earlier than this very morning. If there was one thing Draco hated, it was writing letters. Besides ‘Potter, Weasley and the Mudblood, the Gryffindor lot on the whole, Dumbledore the old fool, McGonagall the hag and not to forget Lupin the mangy Werewolf –’

Once again she flinched. Thinking of Lupin of all people was not the very best idea, right now.

‘Oh and Buckbeak that beastly Hippogriff of course.’ Well, maybe there were some more things Draco did not like then, but writing was definitely one of them.

Not that she cared. She was not actually fond of exchanging a letter a week with him either. But since the end of fifth year, their parents insisted on it and like her, Draco knew better than to refuse this order.  

As Pansy stepped closer, the cat gave a long, threatening, high-pitched growl and pressed itself as flat to the bottom of its cage as possible. Bewildered, she backed away, only to run into someone who had approached from behind. She was just about to apologise, when she found herself face to face with a spiteful looking Hermione Granger, who was accompanied by - who else could it be - Potter and Weasley. The two boys glared at her with likewise sour expressions on their faces.

“What did you do to my cat?!” Granger snapped furiously, her voice almost cracking with rage, and in her first confusion Pansy backed away from her.

“Nothing, honestly,” she stuttered, clearly noticing the smug expressions on Potter and Weasley’s faces at her retreat. ‘Draco is so right about those nitwits,’ she thought, frustrated.

It did not take her long to recover, though, and her pride forced her to get revenge on the other girl for her unfair accusation. “Ohh-“ she scoffed acidly, “is smart Miss Buckteeth worried I might harm her precious kitty?”

It was a childish, trite insult and it was not even true anymore. Since that spectacular duelling accident in their fourth year, Granger’s teeth were no longer any larger than anyone else’s. Nonetheless the taunt still hit home. Granger just gasped, at a loss for words and Potter glared at Pansy as if he wanted to snap her head off, but it was Weasley who assumed the role of Granger’s champion.

“You,” he spat, narrowing his eyes into small slits, “how dare you insult her that way? Her teeth are perfectly fine.” He glanced around. “What’s this, you’re all alone? Where’s your albino-boyfriend, did you scare him away? It wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

Given the recent happenings in her life, those words had a completely different meaning to Pansy and made her feel miserable once again. Though shaking with rage, she tried to appear calm.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern - Weasley.” With a look of disgust at his worn robes that made the mention of his name sound like an insult, she turned away and stared into the opposite direction, pretending to be oblivious to their presence. 

“Poor Crookshanks,” she heard Granger mutter, all concerned. 

“He’s all right, Hermione,” Weasley sighed, slightly deflated, “don’t make such a fuss about it.”

“But Ron,” she gasped, “didn’t you see that she was just about to scare him out of his wits? I don’t even dare to think of what she was up to.”

“Ron is right, Hermione,” Potter interjected calmly, “Crookshanks really looks fine to me.”

‘Well, at least one of them does have some sense,’ Pansy thought, but his next words shattered this judgement. “I don’t think she had time to do anything to him.”

Repressing a sigh of frustration, Pansy decided not to listen to the conversation behind her anymore and focused her attention onto a couple of third years, who were chatting about the upcoming Hogsmeade trips they would be allowed to take from this year on. But she was not really in to this. All the time she was well aware of the trio’s presence. She could almost sense their angry stares in her back and she still caught bits of their conversation every now and then. She was really mad. She had not done a thing, but those three dunderheads were more than willing to expect the worst. Typical.

O

It was a very uncomfortable atmosphere. She did not really know what to do, and was relieved to spot Millicent Bulstrode in the crowd a few minutes later. One after another her friends joined her, chatting happily about the holidays’ events.

When the train finally arrived, Pansy was surrounded by Morag, Blaise and Millicent, the other Slytherin girls in their year; and Crabbe and Goyle, who helped her to place her trunk in their compartment before they left to look for Draco.

Pansy had not spotted him so far, either, but was only glad about that since she did not feel quite able to face him right now. Although all visible signs of the Werewolf’s attack had been removed by Twinky – with the exception of the bite, which was safety hidden underneath her robes - she was still deeply shaken by the attack and the fear of its consequences.   

A few minutes later the train left the station to her last year at Hogwarts, but given the recent incidents, Pansy could not really enjoy the ride through the summery landscape. All her thoughts dealt with the fears pressing her. 

O

Around lunch time the old witch with the trolley appeared. Pansy still did not feel hungry, but Morag, Blaise and Millicent brought a couple of chocolate frogs and a cauldron cake each.

It was hot in the compartment and Pansy felt the need for some fresh air. Several strands of her hair had fallen down from the bun and curled themselves in sweaty ringlets at the back of her neck. She got up to open the window and for some time she just allowed the cool air to sweep over her face, then she sat down again and continued to mournfully stare out of the window.

She did not participate in the other girls’ conversation, but luckily they did not ask her any questions. They probably supposed her to be in foul mood because she had not seen Draco so far and simply left her alone.

O

Around four in the afternoon he finally appeared, and sat down in the seat beside her.

“Hi Blossom,” he teased her, planting a brief kiss on her cheek, “I guess you didn’t get my owl today, did you?”

“No, of course not,” Pansy snapped more sharply than she intended, “you probably didn’t respond to my letter any earlier than this morning, did you?! And it’s my owl!” she added bitterly.

Draco’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “Woa- Pansy, calm down, will you? No need to jump at my throat.”

Pansy, who could not really say those words were luckily chosen from her point of view, flinched slightly when he touched her arm. Draco obviously mistook this reaction to be caused by a really bad state of annoyance. Gently rubbing her forearm he smiled apologetically at her. “Hey look, I didn’t know you were so impatient for my letter,” he muttered. “I’m sorry OK?”

Pansy realized she had to get a grip on herself. She was very well aware of the knowing glances Morag, Millicent and Blaise exchanged with each other. They supposed that stupid letter to be the reason for her fool mood and it would look more than odd if she continued to brood any longer. She would have to be more careful.       

“Well, allright, Draco,” she shrugged with a half-hearted smile.

He sneaked one arm around her and grinned. “I would have looked for you earlier, but I had to spot my dearest friends a quick visit before. You know, Mudblood, Potty and the Weasel,” he added with a smirk. “They were thrilled of course and they had some news as well.” At her blank look he continued, “What was it with you and Granger’s cat at the station?”

“Oh nothing, honestly,” Pansy frowned, ”it got nervous when I approached its cage, and they almost had a fit about it. That’s all.”

Draco’s head snapped up in alarm at that. “Did they do anything to you?” he asked in a mixture of concern and anger.

“Those nitwits?” Pansy mocked, pretending to be completely unaffected by the incident. “No, certainly not!” She carefully watched his face. It almost seemed as if he really cared about her – in some way – wich left her with an odd mixture of confusion… and regret…        

**O**

The Sorting and Welcome Feast were an endless torture. But the sound of hundreds of students talking excitedly to each other was only part of it. With the years he had developed a quite precise ability to focus just on specific sounds, while blocking every other noise around.    

Remus Lupin sat in his chair at the high table and let his gaze wander across the crowd of students. He had caught more than one timid side glance in his direction, but this was not all of it. As soon as he had entered the Great Hall this evening, he had noticed a very special scent, he had never smelled before. Or no, that was not quite correct. He knew that he had smelt something similar before, but he could not tell where or when. It was familiar in some way and yet very different on the other hand. It distracted him from all happenings around and therefore the sorting and welcome feast brushed past him in a haze.

Only when Dumbledore announced his return and introduced him to the students who hadn’t been at Hogwarts three years ago, he did snap out of his absentminded state for a few moments. But the hateful glances and repulsive remarks that passed amongst the students were of no help to improve his mood. None of them knew that he could easily overhear the conversations of the nearest students and those of his colleagues. His sharp Werewolf senses were able to sort single dialogues out of the wave of murmur and he could clearly sense uncertainty, repulsion and fear and also their accompanying aggressions.    

**O**

Long after the Sorting feast had ended and their younger house members had disappeared into their dormitories, the seventh year Slytherins remained in the common room talking about the day’s happenings.

Pansy wished she could think of a way to escape the round. Her back ached quite badly from the tense posture she had held herself up with during the day, and the bite in her back was burning like fire. The topic of discussion was, how could it have been otherwise, Professor Lupin.   

“The freak will be sorry to have dared to show up here again. I took my own precautions against the Dark Arts and Creatures,” Draco told them with a look of slyness on his face and pulled out a silver dagger that glittered in the light of the fire.

As soon as she caught sight of the weapon, Pansy flinched back as if burned. She tried her best to hide the fear that hit her at the sight of the deathly sharp blade, but was hardly able to breathe. Draco, who had noticed her reaction, lowered the dragger immediately and sneaked one arm around her shoulders. It took her all self-control not to pull away from him.

“You needn’t be afraid, Pansy,” he told her with a smug expression. “It’s that brute who should be troubling himself about this, not you, Sweetling.”

Pansy managed to give him a faint smile at that comment. She tried to convince herself that Draco would no harm her, if he were ever to find out, but she was not really sure of it. She was not even sure if there was anything to be found out at all. Maybe her worries were pointless. Maybe she was no Werewolf after all. There was still hope.  

O

But when she finally lay in bed she could not find any sleep. The other girls’ regular breathing sounded unusually loud to her and the sickeningly sweet scent of Blaise’s new perfume or bathing oil was giving her a headache. Maybe she was just going crazy. Depressed and tense with worry she finally fell asleep. 

**O**

Wednesday morning brought the first DADA lessons for the seventh years. This meant Harry, Ron and Hermione along with their fellow Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws at 9.30, but before this he would have to unfortunately teach the Hufflepuff-Slytherin class as well. Remus Lupin could not really say he was fond of that lesson.

Nervously he had one last look through his notes. This was the most difficult class he had to teach and the impression he made with this first lesson, would affect every following one. He had decided that, since everyone already knew of his lycanthropy, it would be best to bring the topic up himself. With all other classes he had had so far this tactic had gone fine.

As the first students shuffled into the room, their faces an odd mixture of curiosity, aversion and fear, he put the paper down on the desk in front of him. It was an awkward period of time until all students had arrived. While Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones greeted him with timid, but encouraging smiles, he clearly sensed dislike, aggression or apprehension in most of the other students.

Each sort of emotion had its own, very special scent, easily to distinguish for one used to it. Lycanthropy could even come in handy, once one was able to control the much sharper senses of a Werewolf. This way he could easily recognize his opponent’s mood and attitude towards him and could react appropriately. Encouraging and kindly where he sensed fear and insecurity, but also determined when necessary.

In Draco Malfoy’s case it would not be wise to act too dominantly, though. The boy seemed only to wait for an opportunity to get into a fight with him, verbal or otherwise. And he was wise enough to know that he could only lose, whether he would have the upper hand or not.

Suddenly a different scent reached his nostrils.

There was the usual fear and excitement in it that he had noticed in nearly all of his students, but also something else. It was an odd mixture of depression, almost desperation; and the nervousness of someone who knew they were going into a fix, but could not avoid it nonetheless. This set him into alarm status. Someone in such mood often acted aggressively and uncontrollably. He had to be careful around this person.

But yet, there was something else – It was no mood nor any hormonal status. It was something different and he had definitely smelled it before – somewhere…

Cautiously, so not to make matters worse, he turned his head towards the door and found his eyes locked with those of an utterly disturbed and scared-looking Pansy Parkinson. He could clearly recognise her pupils dilating with a rush of adrenaline and could see her nostrils twitching for a few seconds, before she bowed her head and hurried towards an empty seat in the back of the room.

Still slightly confused, Remus Lupin rose from his seat behind the desk and faced the class. The lesson was to begin.


	4. Shopkeeper Borgin and Mr. Burkes

The professor’s first words were a surprise to the class.

Addressing them with his usual, pleasant smile he began: “Since you already know about my – secret – now, it might be a good opportunity to review some facts you learned about the Werewolf in your third year and to catch up on the most recent developments in the treatment of lycanthropy.”

“And who would know better than him,” Pansy heard Draco taunting from the bench in front of her.

“Too true, Mr. Malfoy,” Lupin remarked dryly and everyone flinched with surprise at this unexpected statement.

The professor could not possibly have heard the half muttered comment, could he?

Noticing the bewildered looks on their faces he continued: “Well, that’s one more thing, Professor Snape might not have filled you in about because of his lack of experience in this special matter. In fact, the senses of most Werewolves are much sharper than those of a human. That’s one reason why a human will rarely ever be able to escape or hide from a Werewolf, if they should be so unlucky as to cross the path of one who is on the hunt.”     

At these words Pansy felt the blood draining from her face. Forceful and frightening, the memories of that dreadful night rushed back to her mind. She once again felt the excitement, the danger, the fear.

“The best defence against a Werewolf is to simply prevent getting bitten, which is most effectively achieved by simply avoiding his presence,” Lupin continued with a smile, causing her to focus on the lecture again.

“Unfortunately this is not an option for any of you. You will still have to attend your Defence Against The Dark Arts lessons, I’m afraid.”

A wave of nervous laughter erupted in the class at this comment, but faded surprisingly quickly into tense silence.

“But then, there is not any need to be afraid of a Werewolf, except for the night of the full moon, and luckily a skilled Potions Master like Professor Snape, is able to mitigate this temporary risk, by brewing a very powerful concoction. The Wolfsbane Potion.” 

A nervous murmuring spread amongst the students once again. Apparently oblivious to this, Professor Lupin continued: “What this potion achieves, is to keep the Werewolf in possession of his human mind, so he won’t attack anyone during his time as a wolf unless he does so by his own free will. You see, there is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded with another smile, then turned serious again. “But even in the rare occasions when a person gets bitten, there are possibilities to prevent them from turning into a Werewolf – nowadays.”   

At this declaration Pansy’s head snapped up in surprise, a frantic gleam of hope reflecting in her eyes, but the professor’s next words destroyed it right away.

“As long as immediately treated, by special essences, the recipes of which you’ll learn at Potions, and drinking a concoction, which – well a special potion; the transmission can be suppressed. Unfortunately these treatments are only effective if administered within the first twenty-four hours after the bite, whereas every later treatment will be to no use.”

The sharp intake of breath, unnoticeable to a mere human ear, caused Remus Lupin to turn his head. For the second time that day he found his eyes locked with those of Miss Parkinson.

She was pale, he noticed, even more than she had been as she had entered the classroom, but for some reason, she now looked not only fearful, but beaten.

Well, it was probably better not to press that tricky problem right now. Facing his class again, he decided to deal with this after the lesson.

“Do you have any more questions about the matter?” he asked and once again a wave of murmurs rose amongst the students as they were murmuring to their neighbours. It probably was not more than low, barely audible whispering to any normal person, but to him it appeared as clear and sound as any other conversation.

But only Draco Malfoy dared to raise his hand and speak aloud, and Remus could sense the aggression radiating from him in an almost palpable way. His cool grey eyes fixed his teacher with an obnoxious, daring gaze.

“Sir, I’m sure that we’re all very appreciative that you’ve – warned – us all about the dangers of Werewolf bites, seeing as my father says … well, never mind what he says. But I’ve a question: You might not know either, but I’m sure the whole class is curious to know. We know that a Werewolf’s bite is contagious, but what about a bite when he’s in human form, or –his kiss? Not that I’m – gay – or anything. Just curious,” Draco smirked as he looked appreciatively around the room at the snickers and guffaws that met his impertinent inquiry.

Suddenly nervous, Pansy shrank back in her chair, refusing to meet the gaze of her erstwhile boyfriend. How much did he know?

She got a tiny pang in her heart as she watched Mr. Lupin staring resolutely at the floor, waiting for the class to quiet down.    

When the little whispers and giggles had died away, he looked up again. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr Malfoy, but you seem to have a quite interesting idea of what Defence Against the Dark Arts requires. But if you are this interested in the matter, why don’t you do some research at the library about it and report on what you found?”

She could not help but smile at the sight of the stunned expression that crossed Draco’s face for a split second, before he managed to recover and find his usual trademark smirk again. Strangely satisfied, Pansy leaned back in her seat.

‘Serves him right,’ she thought grimly. ‘How dare he making fun of this.’ In her current state of worry about her own future, she took his rude obnoxious question as an insult to herself as well. And she did not take it well at all. 

O

After the lesson she tried to slip out of the room as quickly as possible, but the voice in her back made her stop dead in her tracks. “Miss Parkinson, a word please…”

Slowly, reluctantly, she turned her head to glance over her shoulder. “Professor?”

Draco, who was already in the doorway, whirled around. “What do you want with her?” he glared angrily.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?” the professor remarked calmly.

“Yes, there is,” he snapped. “I won’t leave her all alone in a room with you!”

“Mr. Malfoy, it would pain me to have to issue a detention to a seventh-year in the first week of class, but I will not tolerate such impertinence from you. If I thought that your comments were motivated by concern and not malice, I might be more sympathetic. As it is, you’ve used up all your credit with me. For now. Be on your way, Mr. Malfoy. Miss Parkinson will catch up with you presently.”

Draco ground his teeth, but could not really do anything against this order.

After the door closed behind him, Pansy grew nervously aware the fact that she was now all alone in Lupin’s presence. His hazel eyes fixed her questioningly and as she could not stand their gaze she bowed her head and looked to her feet. She once again sensed the special scent, she had noticed at her entry. It was not easy to describe, it was – well, no matter what it was – this was neither time nor place to wonder about it. But she was sure she had not come across it before, not at Hogwarts, nor anywhere else, nowhere – It made her throat turn dry and brought a dainty film of sweat to her forehead and neck.

Deciding attack was the best defence, she inhaled a deep breath that made the unfamiliar scent even more intense, threw her head back and asked in the snappiest way she could manage: “You wanted to talk to me? Sir?”

She saw his nostrils switching as if he noticed the faint scent of nervousness rising from her pores.

“Yes, Miss Parkinson,” he exclaimed calmly, gesturing towards one of the front row benches. “Won’t you take a seat?”

Her eyes briefly flickered towards the advised seat, then immediately back towards his face again. “No!!” she sniffed. “Thank you, I’d prefer to stand, Professor. And if you don’t mind, could you come to the point, please? I have lessons to attend.”

She thought she noticed him flinching for a split second, but she might have been mistaken by this. The very next moment the expression on his face was calm and controlled again. “Handle that as you please, Miss Parkinson. I certainly don’t intend to hold you up. It’s just –”

He drew in another breath, exhaled the air with a barely audible sigh and rose from his chair. As he rounded the desk she stepped immediately backwards and was dismayed to see the brief jab of hurt reflecting in his eyes at her action. Determinedly not to show any fear, she stood her ground and fought the urge to back away from him. But her whole posture was tense and defensive, and she was sure he noticed.

With an exasperated sigh Lupin leaned back against the edge of the desk and folded his arms in front of his chest. She could not blame him. She suddenly felt almost sorry for him. It could not be easy to find people acting this way around oneself, she assumed. She briefly wondered if she would soon face such rejection and dislike as well and swallowed hard at the idea. He certainly had every right to be mad at her for her snippiness, and she almost supposed him to give her a detention, or take points from her: after all she had just witnessed that he could get quite stern and strict as he had when he’d told Draco off. Even if the expression on his face was calm and friendly as usual, she could easily sense the embitterment and fury that hid behind those apparently serene and unaffected features.

“As I said,” he began carefully, his gaze never losing hers, “I certainly don’t intend to hold you up, Miss Parkinson, but I noticed your nervousness during the lesson and – Well never mind. I just wondered if there was anything, you’d like to talk to me about. I was under the impression that there was something bothering you. Maybe you’d want to come to my office this afternoon?”

“Is that an order, Professor,” Pansy asked, suddenly afraid at the idea he might have noticed anything strange around her. To her utter relief, he shook his head though. 

“No, certainly not, it’s just – an offer. It’s your decision to take it.”

“Well, then I don’t know what I should be there for,” she snapped. “I’ve certainly nothing to discuss with you. Is there anything else –sir?”

“No,” he shook his head as if he wanted to stress his words. “No, no, you can go if you like.”

“Fine then,” she sniffed. “Good day, Professor.” With that she whirled around and rushed out of the classroom, but the quietly spoken words muttered more to himself than her, cut like a stab in her back.

“Oh yes, a good day, Miss Parkinson. I should have known better than to ask. What on earth did I expect? Why would you accept any help from – me?” he mumbled and she was sure she would not be able to get the sad tone of his voice out of her head for the rest of the day.   

**O**

The air seemed to whirr with the heat of noon that slowed all activity to a minimum, and drove the inhabitants of the old wizarding Alley back into the cool of their shops and houses to wait for the temperature to decrease to a level that would bring back visitors in the afternoon.

Right now all strangers had either returned to one of the cafes, or the pub in Diagon Alley around the corner; or had settled themselves at one of the tables of this Alley’s inn to escape the heat of noon.

Knockturn Alley seemed to be in a state of lazy midday drowsiness. Not even the lightest gust moved the air to refresh the thick, disabling heat around.

This way not many even noticed the two dark-robed men, who crossed the dusty street towards  “The Bad End” at the corner. Quite in contrast to the deserted street, the narrow, shadowy inn was almost filled to the last of its tables. Only when the brutish, dark looking barkeeper had delivered their order and shuffled back towards his station did the black-haired wizard turn the conversation towards the one topic that had brought them both out of their comfortable Manors into the dusty, heated streets of wizards’ London that day. The one matter he had been burning to hear about ever since he had received his companion’s owl the day before. “Well what is it that’s so important and secretive, you didn’t want to tell me in your letter, Lucius?”

A sly smile crossed the noble features of the pale, blond man. “Don’t be so impatient, you’ll understand the need to discuss a matter of this importance in person, in a place that’s –” his pale-grey eyes wandered around the dimly-lit barroom, “appreciated – once I told you Parcival.” He took another sip from his goblet, before he leaned forward, a smug expression on his face. “Well, you already heard the news about the latest addition to the Hogwarts staff, didn’t you?”

At that the expression on the other man’s face darkened. “Ahh, yes, how couldn’t I Lucius? The Daily Prophet ran a large article about it last week. It’s a shame,” he suddenly flew out, his voice rising towards an angry snarl. “When I imagine that that – creature is teaching my daughter –”

“Keep calm, Parcival, my dear friend,” the other wizard warned with a careful side-glance at the other tables. “We wouldn’t want to draw more attention than necessary, would we? There’s no reason to be concerned about your daughter. She has Draco to keep an eye on her. He’s well prepared to handle the situation.”

After another sip of his wine he continued:  “Of course I agree with you that it’s a shame that Dumbledore that muggle-loving old fool is still in the position to decide what happens at Hogwarts, and who is hired and allowed to teach – or spoil in this case – the young minds of the wizarding world. Given his most recent choice of instructor this might change quite soon though. Our Master thinks this arrangement might not be as useless to us as it seems at first glance.”

“How could he be of use to us?” the other man frowned, leaning curiously forward in his seat. 

“Well, Werewolves are still deeply mistrusted around the magical world,” his companion drawled, with a triumphant smirk. “And quite right, if you ask me. There have been enough warnings and objections questioning his choice, but Dumbledore insisted on hiring that freak. I was infuriated by the idea as well at first, but just imagine the possibilities. An attack during the full moon every now and then – A little slaughter amongst the inhabitants of Hogsmeade –

I already instructed Draco to increase mistrust and fright in the others. To remind them constantly, who and – what – that man amongst them is, so they won’t forget and will draw their own conclusions when it’s about time. As for Dumbledore – Well, this time the old fool might have played right into our hands, Parcival, listen…”

**O**                   

The noise of slowly approaching steps on the dry grass caused Pansy to turn her head. Surprised to have heard it from a distance of more than fifty yards, she watched the tall, lean young wizard approaching her. The late gloom of afternoon sun playing on his silvery-blonde hair.

“There you are,” he mumbled as he came to a halt at her side, taking in the fact that she had taken off her shoes and lifted her robes up to the knees, her bare feet dangling in the water. An amused smile switched across his lips. “I should have known.”

He sat down beside her on the landing whose old, bleached wood was still warm from the sun, and sneaked an arm in a possessive manner around her shoulders. “I missed you,” he whispered fiercely and drew her closer. “We haven’t had any private time since we’ve been back at Hogwarts.”

It was pretty clear what he was up to, she knew him well enough. Besides that she could even scent the sexual tension radiating from him.

“Didn’t you miss me, too, Pansy?” he muttered, tracing his fingertips softly across the bare skin of her palm and forearm. “You aren’t avoiding me, are you?”  

It took her all self-control not to shrug his arm off and pull away from him. “Of course not, Draco,” she muttered uneasily, “but I – uhm I – I guess we hadn’t better do this anymore.”

He looked up at her, surprise written all over his face. She almost felt bad for making up such an excuse as she planned. But it was simply the best way to keep him off – the best she could think of right now at least. Drawing in a deep breath, she continued: “I don’t think it’s wise to take a risk like this – and during the final year at that. School will be over soon enough and we can certainly wait that long, couldn’t we?” At his blank look, she continued, more determined: “What if I get pregnant, Draco? Did you ever think about that?”

“Pregnant?” he asked in alarm. The blood seemed to drain from his already pale cheeks. “Oh – shit – I – didn’t waste a single thought on this so far. Didn’t you take a potion!?” His voice sounded almost as shrill as Longbottom’s now.

If she had not been so worried about the bite, she might have found this little fake play pretty amusing. Slowly she shook her head. “No, I didn’t even think of the possibility anything might happen, until –”

“Until what Pansy?” Draco asked nervously. “Until you found out it did?!” He was even paler than usual, if that was at all possible, but now, nervous pink patches appeared on his high cheekbones. Running his fingers through his slivery-blond hair, he stared to his knees. “Oh shit, oh shit, I can’t believe you didn’t take any potion. How could you Pansy?! How could you not tell me?! I thought you had more sense. I thought – I thought it was safe! Oh damn – father is going to have my head about this… and your parents as well...”

A sudden feeling of anger rose inside her at this and caused her to grind her teeth. “Is that all you have to say about the matter!?” she glared.

“Of course not, Pansy,” he looked up at her again, a torment of emotion mirroring on his face, then, suddenly, his pale-grey eyes softened. Impulsively, he reached out for her and pulled her close once again, but this time the intention was clearly a different one. She was stunned by the gentleness with which he turned her face towards his. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, stroking some stands of her hair out of her face with his fingertips. “I’m sorry, Pansy. I know it’s not your fault. I didn’t think of this one bit either. I didn’t mean what I said that way. I was just so – startled – by the news, I – Oh Pansy, are you all right, I mean are you em –  Did I really get you with child?”

She just looked at him for a couple of seconds, surprised at the unexpected gentle and tender reaction. He must really care about her. Despite all his coldness and cruelty he showed towards others, he seemed to care about her – A lot as it seemed. This did not make the situation any easier. She could not continue like this anymore. Not now –

“No,” she croaked out uncomfortably, her voice shaking slightly. “No, you didn’t. It’s just that I thought – I thought that – it was better, if we– didn’t continue like this –  I –”

“Don’t lie to me, Pansy. What are you afraid of?” he muttered, dragging her closer, “It will be all right – everything will be all right, you’ll see…”

**O**

Up in his office in the castle Remus Lupin turned away from the window as Draco Malfoy pulled Pansy Parkinson into a kiss. A very reluctant kiss as far as the black-haired young woman was concerned for all it appeared to him. He had been watching her thoughtfully for quite a while, ever since he’d noticed her coming out of the castle, walking down towards the lake and taking off her shoes, but he certainly did not want to intrude on her privacy now that she had company.

He could not quite put a finger on it, but something was definitely going on. He had noticed a very similar scent to the one he had detected around her, somewhere else before - and recently at that. If he could only remember, where on earth he had encountered it. There was definitely something strange about her. He had noticed how far away the young Malfoy had been, when she had suddenly turned her head to look at him, seemingly because she had heard him approach. How could that be? It might have been nothing but pure chance, but somehow he doubted this and he was determined to keep an eye on her. If his suspicions were correct, he could not allow her to keep her dark secret to herself much longer.

**O**

The sound of the doorbell was not really necessary to announce the arrival of the two back-robed wizards to the oily-grey-haired man behind the desk. He had already noticed them approaching, since they had rounded the corner at the end of the street.

Hastily he jumped to his feet, eager to make a good bargain with one, or preferably both of these wealthy men.

His vivid amber eyes flickered towards the door with anticipation. Neither Mr. Parkinson nor Mr. Malfoy would enter his shop to just have a look around. He could only hope they were planning to buy, not sell this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you know what they are going to ask of him, don’t you? The name of the shop is playing an important role in this story and I guess you know to which characters of a different book, I’m hinting to.  
> Lots of thanks for leaving Kudos. I’m really glad that you like this story. Even though there isn’t much romance yet, there is lots to come soon, you can be sure of that. And it won’t be Draco/Pansy don’t worry.  
> Smiles, Serpentina


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